


Propensity

by TheMulletWhisperer



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Do You Like Hurting Other People?, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Richard Is Watching, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7765078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMulletWhisperer/pseuds/TheMulletWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you like hurting other people?</p>
<p>Galina finds her answer on a routine raid, early in her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Propensity

**Author's Note:**

> Up-front, this fic was inspired by Hotline Miami and therefore contains gratuitous gore and violence to a frankly quite psychotic degree that should by all right exempt me from the sanity club. 
> 
> So, if that ain't your thing, ain't be readin' dis.

Stepping up to the door, Galina could hear the sounds from inside the manor. Grunting, squealing, moaning...a prisoner subjected to the tortures of the Thalmor and their lustful, disgusting ways. She wasn’t sure who it was or if the girl was even giving her consent, but it didn’t matter. The Stormcloaks were coming in just behind her, they’d take the prisoners and dole justice out according to their crimes. Galina didn’t kill. She never killed, it was disgusting. 

However, at times, it seemed like a good idea, especially as she heard faint degrading comments from the room on the second floor. Judging by the number of voices that chimed in afterwards, the entire detail of the manor was up there. Perfect target. 

Pushing the door open, Galina stepped in, her padded boots silent on the floor. Her well-fitted trousers rustled around her shins, but in a pleasant way. They felt like a second skin to her, as did the coat wrapped tightly around her back to ward off the biting winter breeze. 

As she ascended the stairs, the sounds grew louder, closer, and more disgusting, as the comments they were making reached her ears. Luckily, she knew well enough how to block out the words of people she didn’t like, honed by her particular disdain for her commanding officer. The pompous twit. 

She’d reached the door where the members of the Embassy were gathered--in more than one sense. Reaching out to the handle, she grabbed it, only to hesitate for a moment. A perfect opportunity presented itself, a small wooden plank--presumably from the broken bannister--leaned against the wall next to her. Grabbing it quietly, she nodded and kicked open the door.

As everything went slow-motion, she saw what was inside. Several naked members of the Embassy surrounding a single Imperial woman--also naked, of course. Without any need or desire to look further, she threw the pole in her hand right for the ringleader’s head, the one who was actively ravaging the girl. 

Direct hit--he fell to the ground with a cry, clutching the side of his head while the rest turned to face her. Decidedly keeping her eyes  _ above  _ the waist, she sprung into action. Ten men in total. 

The first two, evidently guards, by their builds, bum-rushed her, obviously trying to tackle. Gracefully, she ducked under their arms and shoved them forward, right into the walls and out the door. 

Turning at the sound of footsteps, an ambassador was next, only narrowly missing locking her in a chokehold. Taking the advantage she saw, Galina grabbed his locked arms and kneed him right between the legs, sending him down for the count.

Catching her off guard, a fist clocked her jaw, making her reel. The stun was only temporary, however, as she regained her senses quickly and struck back at the trio in front of her. The first one went down fairly easily, with a palm-heel to the throat and a box-clap on his ears, while the second proved to be a bit more of a challenge. Unperturbed by the incapacitation of his friends, the man and his butt-buddy both swung for her at the same time, while another, joining the fray from the group behind them, went for a grab. Which proved to be a bad move, as she ducked out of the way with ease and sent Mr. Grabby Hands right into his friends, sending the three tumbling down the nearby staircase. 

With only three left--ones that seemed content to  _ not _ have bruises they’d feel all over in the morning. An unfortunate stance for them to take, as Galina was under orders to incapacitate  _ everyone _ . Kicking the first one back, she grabbed the second one by the hair, moving to slam his face into the dining table he was standing in front of.

And that…

Is when everything changed. 

The Altmer collapsed to the ground, his head cracked straight open. In an instant, he’d been snuffed out. Killed, no breath. No pulse. 

Galina’s vision spun as she looked upon his dead, bleeding body and the blood pooling under his head. It was gruesome, it was gory, it was disgusting...it was fun.

Grabbing the wooden post from earlier, she whirled around and smashed it across the last standing emissary’s head, sending him down to the floor on his back, but still alive. She got on her knees and straddled his waist, raising the post and bringing it down on his head until it was nothing but paste.

By now, the others had started backing away, but she didn’t care. The post had splintered, but that wouldn’t stop her, she’d show the disgusting elven animals what a real Nord could do. The first one, the one she’d kicked, staggered to his feet, but she was too fast for him, catching him by the arm and ramming the post forcefully into his heart, ending him almost immediately. 

Next to her there stood a cast-iron lantern, and she knew just what to do with it. 

Stepping over to the half-conscious ringleader, who lay in front of a sobbing and abused-looking girl, she opened the latch of the lantern and poured a fair amount of oil onto his back. Before he could realize what was happening, she smashed the lantern on his back, not only embedding several shards of glass into his skin, but lighting the oil as well. 

With the shell of the lantern still in hand, she retraced her steps. The one she’d kicked in the bollocks was curled up against the wall, in pain, but she didn’t care. He deserved to die, too. Raising her foot, she kicked,  _ hard _ , and watch blood splatter on the wall behind him as his head cracked and he fell over. Dead or unconscious, either way he got what he deserved. 

She threw the last of the lantern down the stairs and sent a fireball after it, watching as an inferno sprung up. No attention was paid to the screams from below. 

Just when she thought she was done, she remembered what she’d forgotten--the two guards. One grabbed her from behind while the other went to punch her in the gut. Acting quickly, she planted a boot in the middle of his chest and sent him tumbling down the stairs, into the fire with his friends.

One more left. Dipping her head forward and reeling it back quickly, she relished in the  _ crack _ that it made. Whirling around and looking at the man, prone on the floor, face-down, she knew what to do. Once again straddling him, she took his head between her hands and began smashing his head against the floor, again and again and again until he stopped moving. She lost track of time.

She simply sat there for a few moments, the red haze clearing. Standing, she looked around the room at her work. The blood, the gore, the death. It was too much, it was overwhelming. She collapsed to her knees, vomiting--hard. Vomiting until there was nothing left and dry-heaving until the Stormcloaks got there to haul her off. 

The last thing she was before she lost consciousness was the word  _ “Queen” _ scrawled on the wall above the room.  


End file.
